Such Language
by Groundswell
Summary: James gives Lily a task, where the prize is him to leave her alone, but what she doesn't count on is him to hope she'll succeed. What is his secret intentions?


_A/N:_ Hey! Okay, so this idea came to me all of a sudden and I had to write it down. It's a silly, though not a cliché. Thanks to Kaitlyn for betaing it!

**Such Language**

Why did I even bother? It wasn't like he'd leave me alone, nevertheless. Even if I did succeed, how did it prove that I was in fact serious about it? How did it prove that I, in fact, hated him and wanted him to burn in hell or something even worse?

I turned another page in the book and put two fingers on my temples. It was starting to hurt and I was getting tired. The darkness from outside was all around, though it was only six in the evening; it became dark earlier because of the winter. The words seemed more blurred as each second went by, but I wasn't one to give up, I still had four to go. With a sigh, I found the last word I was searching for. I wrote it down and got up with the book in my hand. Seven down, three to go. I stopped at the shelf, and put the book right back in its place. I grabbed the first book my eyes caught hold of. Russian, that'd be exciting. With a heavy head, I walked back and slumped down on my chair and started working again.

"James!"

James Potter turned as I called him. He raised his eyebrows at me and then motioned for his friends to go. "Yes?" he asked. I could even hear the smirk in his voice.

"I have found the phrases," I said.

He let his bag fall to the floor and leaned against the wall with crossed arms. "You have, have you?"

I nodded. "Yes, I sure have. Excited?"

"Oh yeah. Get it started!"

I sighed and held up the parchment so I could read it. "Um, in French: Je te hais. Spanish: Te odio."

I looked up at him, feeling him searching me, but his eyes were only on mine, attentive. He nodded for me to continue. He showed no emotions, only attentiveness.

"Err," I said and cleared my throat. "German: Ich hasse dich. Chinese: Wo hen ni. Italian: Ti odio. Finnish: Minä vihaan sinua."

He moved his weight to his other leg and my eyes flashed up from the parchment for a second. His gaze was still completely on my eyes, shinning. I was puzzled, why was he happy? I was making him stay away from me, not asking him on a date.

"Continue," he said with a nod as I said nothing.

"Oh yeah," I mumbled and looked down. "Errm… Hindi: Mai tumse nafrat karti hoon." I stuttered through it, since I had no idea how to pronounce it, but he didn't interrupt me. "Russian: Ya nenavìzhu tebya. Danish: Jeg hader dig. And um, Ukrainian: Ya nenavydzhoo tebe." I lowered the parchment and looked up at him.

He was smiling, but why, I had no idea. "Such language," he said amused.

I raised an eyebrow, not speaking. I was waiting for him to leave, but he didn't. While I kept looking at him, his smile slowly faded and he just studied me.

At last, he cleared his throat. "You pronounced some of it wrong."

I narrowed my eyes. "No, I didn't."

He raised an eyebrow. "Yes you did. The 'Ich' in German is softer and not like 'ik', it's wrong. So was the 'dich'."

"Why did I even bother?" I groaned. "I found the phrase in ten languages, actually eleven, since I didn't count English as one of them – I hate you, by the way. Great, that's eleven, now please leave me alone now, James." He smirked, making me sigh, "You don't intend to leave me now, do you?"

He shook his head. "No, and to be honest I think you don't want me to do so, either."

Both my eyebrows flew up under my fringe. "Excuse me?"

"Think about it, Lily," he said and pushed himself away from the wall. "Yesterday, you spent hours in the library trying to find one single phrase in ten different languages. You spent that many hours on me."

"Because I wanted you to leave me alone!"

"Sure, sure."

I hit his arm. "Don't use that kind of tone with me."

"What kind of tone?"

"That one! You do not believe me!"

"No," he snorted.

The parchment crumpled in my hand. "You big fat liar! James, you promised that if I could find the phrase in ten languages, you'd leave me alone!"

He placed his hand on my shoulder. "And you did, which shows there're some feelings for me inside of you."

"I hate you!" I hissed, shoving his hand away. I turned to walk away.

"That's good," he said, with a smirk, again. "Hate is a passionate feeling."

My hands balled up and I spun around to face him again. My bag fell to the floor and I raised my index finger, pointing it at him.

"One more freaking word, James Potter," I said, "and I swear to Merlin that I'll kill you. Understood?"

A smile flashed on his lips and I somehow found myself knowing exactly what was going through his mind. My eyes widened and I opened my mouth to speak.

"Oh no, Ja-"

And I was cut off as he kissed me. I was stunned, but after a few seconds of not responding or doing anything at all, I placed my two hands on his chest and pushed him away as hard as I could. Then I slapped him.

"How dare you?" I hissed and then stormed away.

* * *

I sighed and pulled the blanket closer to my body, eyes on the slow flames. They were so beautiful. So unpredictable. That's what made them so dangerous. I closed my eyes for a second, leaning back and becoming more comfortable. Something was dumped down on the other end of the couch. I opened my eyes and my bag was there.

I looked up to find a hand, followed it till the shoulders, then to the face and at last the eyes of James. I sighed; I didn't have the energy to yell at him. Slowly, he walked around the couch and sat down between my bag and me.

"Hey," he said, not even looking at me, but staring into the flames.

I looked at the fire too. "Hi."

I suddenly felt very awkward. Just hours ago I had thrown yet another fit at him, succeeded by a slap. It felt differently than it should. I guess it was because he didn't speak, he just looked at the flames like me. He sighed.

"S'agapo."

I looked up at him. "What?"

He smiled shortly, though not looking at me. "S'agapo. Means 'I hate you' in Greek."

"Oh." I didn't have anything better to say.

"See," he said. "I could easily say it without meaning it. But I spent time in the library looking it up for you. I did something for you voluntarily, spent time on you."

I frowned; I had no idea where he was going.

"Don't you see?" he asked. It sounded a bit desperate, without hope. "Yes, you said 'I hate you' in ten different languages, but that doesn't prove it. Just because you say it, it doesn't mean you actually mean it. In fact, I'd say it proves the exact opposite. You spent several hours in the library for me, to tell me something. That means you care about something."

I closed my eyes and let my head fall back on the backrest. "I won't even bother to argue with you," I said, "I don't have the energy."

"Then don't." His voice was suddenly awfully close.

My eyes shot open and I found him only centimeters away. I studied the lines of his face for a few seconds before I closed my eyes again.

"Sure."

He leaned away again. "You could always give in, you know."

I stifled a yawn. "Yeah, but what's the fun of it? You're not going to win that easily, James Potter."

He chuckled. "But I always win."

"I know," I said. "And that's why I'm fighting you. You already have all you want."

"You mean I don't deserve you?"

I shook my head slightly. "That's not what I said. I just said you already had it all."

"Not all."

I opened my eyes. He was studying me closely. Very slowly, I sat up, my eyes locked with his. He sat relaxed, yet straight up, and his eyes were deep with thought.

"No," I said. "You might not have… But think about it, would you really feel better if you did have me?"

He didn't answer at once. He looked at me, as if trying to let me read the answer in his eyes, but after several seconds, he took a deep breath, answering. "Yes, I would." He looked away into the night, "haven't you ever had the feeling that you were missing something? That something had gone missing from you?"

Yes, I did feel something like that every once in a while, but it was part of being human, to not feel perfect and whole. No one is perfect, no one has the perfect life. There is always something wrong and those who claim they have a perfect life are lying. No one has.

"Yes," I answered after a few seconds.

"I think," he said and closed in on me, "that I could help you with that. You see, I feel that too, but when you're around, even when you're mad at me, or yelling at me, I feel alive. I feel whole!"

I snorted. "You live for the adrenaline kick my fits give you."

He shook his head. "I don't think so."

"Um." I placed a finger in his chest. "James, you're a little close."

He nodded. "I know, but don't you feel it?"

"Feel what?" I asked and frowned.

"The sensation! The feeling of being whole."

"No, I-"

"Before answering, try feeling."

I sighed. "Okay."

He smiled. "Close your eyes and relax, then you'll feel it."

I raised an eyebrow skeptically, but closed my eyes. This felt so silly, trying to feel something that wasn't there. But what was I looking for? The empty feeling I knew everyone had, or the feeling James described?

"You know what, Lily?"

I nearly jumped up out of fright. He had come to speak just in my ear, without me noticing he'd gotten that close. I took in a breath, still not opening my eyes.

"No, what?"

"'S'agapo', in fact, does not mean 'I hate you' in Greek." He was smirking.

My eyes shot open and I turned my head, facing him with only centimeters to spare. "What?"

"It means 'I love you'."

I blinked, and before I knew what exactly had gone into me, I kissed him. He didn't really react on it, and I pulled away again before I had really realized what I was doing.

"You're playing dirty," I grumbled and leaned back again, crossing my arms.

"I know," he said with a smile.

I studied him for a few seconds. Then all of a sudden, he got up.

"Oi, where're you going?"

He looked at me. "Dorm. It's almost twelve."

I shot up. "So you're just leaving me!"

"Yeah." He shrugged, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "It adds a bit of coolness to the whole thing, don't you think?"

I had no answer to that, and since it seemed he didn't have anything more to say either, he turned around and walked away. Stunned, I stood behind, speechless. He fought very dirty.

* * *

I looked up as James sat down next to me. "What are you doing in Mary's seat?" I asked.

"Talking to you," he said. "Mary agreed to sit next to Sirius when I told her why I wanted to sit here."

"Please explain," I demanded.

"Je t'aime."

"Huh?"

"Means 'I love you' in French."

"So?"

"I've taken all your languages and found out how to say 'I love you'."

I groaned. "What a day it'll be."

"Te amo."

"Wow, thanks." I hoped he heard the sarcasm.

"Ich liebe dich." He pronounced the 'ich' and 'dich' a lot better than I did. "Wo ai ni."

He was getting annoying and I could feel my anger boil just beneath the surface. I really wanted to slap him, and make it hurt very much. But it was stupid to do such a thing in McGonagall's class.

"Flattering," I said hoarsely.

"Ti amo."

"James, stop. Class has begun."

"Mina" rakastan sinua."

I elbowed him. "Enough!" I hissed.

"Mein tumse pyar karta hoon." He also pronounced that better than I could. "Ya lyublyu tebya."

"Oh Merlin, James stop!"

I only realized I had been shouting when the whole class turned and looked at us. McGonagall marched down to our table and studied us. I sighed.

"Is there a problem, Mr. Potter?" she asked.

James smiled. "Of course not."

"Yes there is," I said loudly. "James won't stop bugging me."

"I'm not bugging you!"

"Yes you are!"

"Miss Evans, please lower your voice." She eyed me. "In fact, both of you go outside and don't come back unless you intend to take part of this class and have solved your problems."

Shooting daggers with my glare at James, I rushed outside. He was right behind me. I crossed my arms and leaned against the wall, my back to him. He walked around me and stood facing me. He smiled.

"Why are you mad?"

"You got me kicked out of class!"

He grinned. "Then we can spend time together. Just you and me."

"Oh, fun."

He raised an eyebrow. "Now you're being mean."

"Am not. I said it'd be fun."

"In a sarcastic way."

I nearly smiled. Why did he always make me do that? It was unfair. With a sigh, I turned and walked the other way.

"Hey," he exclaimed. "I've still got two more!"

I chose not to answer; that was exactly what he wanted.

"Jeg elsker dig."

I bit my lower lip. He certainly never gave up or did things only halfway. It was, in fact, flattering. I stopped as he grabbed my arm, holding me back.

"And… Ja vas kokhaju."

I closed my eyes, fighting a very unwanted smile. "You forgot one."

He stood in front of me. "I did?"

I looked up at him. "In English, please?"

He sighed, locking his eyes with mine as I looked up at him. His head bent over mine. His hands were suddenly on my cheeks, forcing my head up. After having studied me a few seconds, he kissed me shortly.

"I love you."

I grinned and shook my head. "You're a dork, James."

"Is that an 'I love you too'?"

I sighed dramatically. "Love is such a strong word."

He nodded. "Yeah. You can say 'fancy'."

"Fine." I rolled my eyes. "I fancy you."

"Great! Then I fancy you too!"

I laughed while he put his arm around my shoulder. "Have we solved our problems now?"

"Nope," he said and led me further down the corridor, away from the Transfiguration classroom, "Not in the slightest."

The End.

So? Did you like it? If you find any mistakes in the languages, please contact me so I can fix it, I don't speak ten different kinds of languages fluently so this was all something I found on the internet. Thanks for reading!


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